Whole
by CMW2
Summary: Whole-containing all the elements properly belonging;complete.;Since her Joining, Ezri Dax has been on an ongoing quest to become whole again. After serving on the front lines, that quest will take her into new territory with herself and with others on DS9;SPOILERS FOR THE SHOW AND BOOKS SCATTERED THROUGHOUT;Rated for language, imagery, and later spice;2nd in my 2015 SSS Project
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: As you've seen, I recently deleted **_**Taking Control**_** (it's still on my hard drive, though) not only because my **_**DS9**_** Muses went on an extended holiday to Tahiti without me (the dirty jerks!) but also because as I've aged, my writing skills have vastly improved and I've gained a new perspective on Ezri Dax's character so the way I write her on her own and in a romantic relationship with Julian Bashir has to change with it. Quite frankly, girlie got a raw deal, one of the rawest deals in **_**Star Trek**_** history, up there with Tora Ziyal, Data, and Prime Pavel Chekov in **_**Wrath of Khan**_**.**

**She had to be Joined without the training or desire required or she could've let over 300 years of memories die and live with the guilt and stigma. She then came to DS9 and was treated like a Jadzia Dax knockoff that needed to either play along as a living breathing ghost of their loved one or go away (at least for the first third of the season, sans Worf. **_**He **_**didn't see her as more than the symbiont until The Final Chapter Arc). She had 8 hosts worth of memories and experiences running amok in her head and as **_**Penumbra**_** showed, she had a symbiont that had enough sentience to make her into its semi-willing puppet. And then, the whole thing with Julian that started out awesome on TV but turned into an awkward, angsty clusterfuck in the books just like they feared in **_**The Dogs of War**_**…ugh. Rewatching Season 7 as an adult and reading the books just makes me want to give her a hug and a chance for a do-over. Not a complete professional do-over because I liked the whole switch to the Command track thing but a more personal do-over.**

**Fair Warning: Ezri's definitely going to be OOC in places. She's not going to turn into a angry and bitter Mary Sue-esque character but she's going to have a sharper, stronger edge to her sweet personality, especially when it comes to asserting to Dax and to those around her that what she wants is still relevant and that she's not just a placeholder host.**

**Disclaimer: "Honestly, it's not mine!"**

**Prologue (6 Months Ago…)**

"_You're __**still **__leaving? You just got here and the Captain offered you a job, didn't he?"_

"_He did. I turned him down."_

"_Is it because of that Klingon maniac or because of what happened with Garak?"_

"_Quark, I joined Starfleet because I wanted to help people be well. Mental health is just as critical as physical health, especially since we're in the middle of a very bloody and drawn out war. My goal is to serve where I'm needed most and that's what I'm going to do, despite the minor inconvenience of an unplanned and unwanted Joining. The front lines are where I'm needed most."_

"_But, they're so dangerous…"_

"_Oh, like this station isn't?__** I**__ may have just gotten here but DS9 is still familiar to Dax, the good and the bad…and the painful. There's a reason why I only visited the Bajoran Temple once. I'd avoid the Infirmary too but that's not possible at the moment. For the first 6 months after a host is Joined, they're supposed to get a weekly check up and bi-weekly neurological scans to make sure that there aren't any signs of major mental instability. Some is to be expected. You've got a semi sentient slug embedded in your body with at least 100 years of memories to contend with but…nobody wants another Joran Dax situation. Although, in the Symbiosis Commission's defense, he was demented and bloodthirsty to begin with. Being Joined just gave him the self confidence boost and the entitled arrogance to be open about it. They shouldn't have put the memory blocks on Dax, though. Every host, even a murderous and psychotic one, deserves to be known and learned from, even if it's to serve as a cautionary tale…I'm rambling again, aren't I?"_

"_Only a little bit…well, if you insist on going out there, then you be careful. It's bad enough that Nog's running around fighting the good fight. When do you leave? Where are you going?"_

"_The Destiny is meeting up with a troop transport at 375 on Sunday. They'll be here by dinner time tomorrow. I don't know where I'll end up afterwards. Thanks for the drink, Quark. What was it?"_

"_One of my famous Til'amin froths and there'll be another one when you come back and come back, will you? The station just doesn't feel right without a Dax on board and I for one would love to get to know you all over again."_

_Stepping out of Quark's, Ezri Dax sighed softly and suppressed the urge to rub her temples. She didn't exactly have a headache but being on DS9 again was both comforting and difficult. It was familiar but unfamiliar, home but not home. Overlaid with her own vision was the perspective of Jadzia Dax, a Dax who was taller, leaner, and much more confident than she was. Her stomach turned in time with the station's rotation and it was one thing that Ezri wouldn't miss once she left. Damned Torias…damned space sickness…_

_Another thing she wouldn't miss was the constant double takes and the whispers from everyone. She was Dax but not the Dax they knew and adored. She was a stranger and just so different from Jadzia. She was short and so young, was she even out of her teens? Instead of boldness, she moved and spoke with caution, insecurity radiating from her pores. Elim Garak had ruthlessly exploited that vulnerability in a last ditch effort to avoid his own issues but the words he had thrown at her still stung. Every comparison between her and the previous Daxes, positive or negative, stung. She was not just a placeholder, an incubator for the symbiont until someone better came along. She was still a person, a relevant person with relevant thoughts, dreams, and desires! She was not a living breathing ghost, either. The next person who tried to treat her like one would be in for a very rude awakening._

_She may be Ezri Dax now but she was Ezri Tigan before and Ezri Tigan was not one to be disrespected or disregarded. She was not one to be pigeonholed into a role and she had always been a person determined to forge her own path, choose her own destiny._

_The Joining would not take that from her, not without a fight._

_**/**_

"_I'm not running away. Everyone that's come to me to get me to take the counselor's position has assumed that I'm running away. I'm not running away. When a person enlists, they do so with a purpose, with specific goals in mind. I enlisted so I could help the people who need it most and the people who need it the most aren't on DS9 right now. Don't get me wrong, being on the station, seeing and getting to know all of you again has been nice but…Julian, I didn't want this. I didn't want to be Joined. I __**never**__ did. I never liked the way the Commission made it into such a status symbol. I never liked the way that unjoined Trills were treated as if they were less by the Joined. Well, sans the Daxes. The Daxes never bought into all of that nonsense, not even when Lela served in the Senate and Curzon was training the Initiates. But…I just couldn't let the symbiont die. I was the only viable host body available and I had a duty to fulfill. It was the right thing to do and I would make the same decision again. But just because I didn't let Dax die does not mean that I'm going to let __**Ezri**__ die or be lost in the shuffle. I'm still Ezri and what I want, who I am still matters. I'm not just the sum of my parts or a substitute."_

"_You're absolutely right and if I made you feel that way, I apologize."_

"_I appreciate that…everything's okay?"_

"_So far. Lie back. I'd like to check the incision site."_

_As soon as the cool circulated air of the Infirmary touched the bare skin of her abdomen, Ezri's mind started to fill with memories. Jadzia had been examined like this. Her abdomen and Scar had been exposed during the bi-annual physicals officers were required to go through, after away missions to check and tend to injuries, after…_

_Of all the deaths that Dax had experienced, Jadzia's had been the most painful, the most brutal, and the most unexpected. One moment, she had been in the Temple thanking the Prophets for allowing her body to carry her husband's child and the next…the Pagh-Wraith's energy beam had been searing. Every nerve ending had been ablaze and frozen with agony at the same time. Every breath had been choked. She had been unable to defend herself, unable to scream, unable to do anything until Dukat released her and then…as soon as the energy blast had hit her, as soon as she hit the Temple floor, Jadzia knew that she was going to be dead before the end of the night. She had been utterly devastated at the realization but the duty to Dax prevailed. The main teaching that was imbedded into each potential host was that the survival of the symbiont they had been entrusted with came before everything and everyone else._

"_**Save Dax… Save Dax… Save Dax…**__" she had repeated over and over again before succumbing to the pull of darkness, brought on by her mortal wounds and the sedation…_

_Her eyes opened and Ezri felt a warm shiver down her spine as Julian's fingertips gently went over the raised scar where Dax had entered her. Due to it being a medical emergency, the Joining had been quick and while she had been anesthetized, the surgeon hadn't spent much time tending to the site post surgery. Therefore, what was usually a thin white line was a raised pale pink ridge, almost red against her snow like complexion. Fortunately, the moisturizer she used on her skin held ingredients that softened the tissue and it was slowly but surely integrating._

"_There hasn't been any discharge but there's still a bit of pull and tug when I raise my arms. It's nothing that I can't handle."_

"_I can soften the tissue with a dermal regenerator. Has it been hot to the touch? Any numbness or tingling?"_

"_No. Sometimes I can feel the symbiont shifting inside of me, particularly when I'm sleeping. Is that normal?"_

"_Yes. Dax is still acclimating to your body. The major connections were formed in the first few days after your Joining but the secondary connections won't be complete until about 6 months down the line, sometimes 8."_

"…_it's not enough that the damned thing gets to scramble my mind almost beyond recognition. Now, it's rearranging my organs so it can leech off of me more efficiently? __**Wonderful**__…wow, that was bitter. I'm sorry."_

"_Don't be. I understand."_

"…_you really do, don't you?"_

"_To a point. I didn't…I remember going to Adigeon Prime to get a check up and to meet with a special needs counselor but I didn't realize that I had been enhanced until we learned about Khan and the Eugenics Wars. I always wondered why things were so much clearer afterwards, so much easier. I confronted my parents and they confirmed everything, swearing that they had done it out of love but I still felt…"_

"…_violated. You felt like they had stolen something from you, something and someone that you'll never get back."_

"…_yes."_

_The hum of the dermal regenerator activating served as an end point for their discussion and she closed her eyes again as he tended to the Scar._

_Ezri hadn't been lying when she told him that if Worf hadn't come along, Jadzia would've been with him. He was a brilliant man and more importantly, he was a genuinely kind and idealistic man. Despite the horrors of war and the admitted grimness of his profession, Dr. Julian Bashir still managed to keep hope alive. There was a bit of cynicism in his makeup now but overall…and he was far from unattractive. In another life, he could've easily been a model. Long, lean, cultured…what stood out the most were his eyes. They were a blend of hazel and gold that could soothe or sear, depending on the situation. _

_Ezri found herself drawn to him instantly and that presented a dilemma._

_She was already pushing the envelope on the rules about Reassociation. Every Dax had at some point (some more than others…) but just because the symbiont had been hoisted on her didn't mean that she wanted the slug to die because of her hormones. Of course, Jadzia and Julian had never been involved (not for lack of trying on his part in those first awkward years) but the Commission was already upset that her Joining seemed to be going swimmingly. They had either expected her to break down and depend solely on them for the rest of her time with Dax or expected her to endure and to let them study her with impunity. Neither option happened. Once she got her head back on straight, she had left for New Orleans and didn't look back. Still, she didn't want to rock the boat against them and frankly, Ezri was still chafing from the whole disaster with Brinner Finok._

_She __**hadn't **__been the only unjoined Trill on board the Destiny. She had been the only __**viable**__ one. Brinner had been incapacitated by a Changeling and in stasis when Dax arrived. She had to step up to the plate and be Joined and that ended their relationship. Not only was Brinner similar to one of Audrid's children, the resentment Ezri harbored against him had been potent. Certainly unreasonable because it wasn't like he had gotten injured on purpose but it was still there. She was saddled with a symbiont she had never dreamed of wanting (unlike him…he had failed out of Initiate training) and he got to continue his life as normal. He had tried to be comforting and supportive but the jealousy of her being the one Joined, the awkwardness…it had been for the best but it still hurt. Afterwards, she had made a conscious decision to avoid romance and all of its variants, at least for a year or so, provided that she lived that long._

_Of course, the moment that she had first talked to Julian, that notion had gone right out of the airlock._

_It was still a dilemma, though. She had professional goals to accomplish and even if she did stay on DS9, she didn't want to be a consolation prize for anyone. She had heard Quark point blank say that she was the next best thing to Jadzia. Dax wasn't oblivious to Julian's devotion to Jadzia, making sure that Ezri wasn't either. If she let herself fall for him and it turned out that he was just using her to be with the Dax he lost, then she would snap. She would certainly snap in a way that have him dead and/or maimed with her dishonorably discharged in a high security penal colony for the rest of her life. Ezri's temper took a lot to provoke but once it was provoked, it was __**very**__ destructive._

_Dax also helpfully supplied memories of Julian's various misadventures in romance. Of the lot, the best relationship he been involved in was with Leeta and the fact that she was married to __**Rom**__ now said a lot. She didn't want to be another one of his exes at all but if they didn't work out, she at least wanted it to be amicable._

_And she would want to end up with someone a lot better than Rom. Not to say that Rom wasn't a good man but still, it was a downgrade in Ezri's humble opinion and in Dax's too._

_The dermal regenerator cut off and Ezri sat up, stretching her arms above her head. The pull and tug was gone now and the pink of the scar was much closer to white now. It had also lost its ridge like appearance and most of its rough texture._

"_Much better. Thank you, Julian."_

_Was it just her or did his eyes linger as she pulled her gray undershirt back in place?_

"_It's no trouble…do you mind joining me for lunch?"_

"_Aren't you afraid that Worf will rip your spine out in an effort to preserve Dax's honor?"_

"_How did you…"_

"_Quark told me what happened. I'd be glad to join you. I'm not hungry but I've been craving a Fanalian toddy. A kind eavesdropper introduced me to them a few days ago."_

_His laugh was full and rich, making Ezri smile as they left the Infirmary together._

_Provided that she lived through whatever posting she received and the job offer was still good, she would be more than glad to return to DS9, if not just to hear him laugh again._

_If that made her sound pathetically infatuated, if that desire put her a few steps closer to Reassociation and potential heartbreak, then so be it._


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: Many thanks to all of you for the positive response! I'm glad that my Muses are still capable of branching out into other fandoms, especially one that I've always adored. Let's get this party started. As for this fic, while it's still going to be an AU, there will be allusions and full spoilers for episodes scattered throughout it and I hope you guys enjoy the latest.**

**Disclaimer: "Honestly, it's not mine!"**

**Present Day…**

Deep Space Nine had always been striking in its appearance.

A blend of curves and sharp edges, unique in its history, and massive…it hung in space like a big industrial necklace, the lights shining almost as bright as the surrounding stars, as the glacial tones of the nearby wormhole. It was an architectural and aesthetic delight…

Counselor Ezri Dax blinked and turned away from her porthole. Looking into the full length mirror, she straightened to attention, taking in her towel clad reflection. The towel hit the floor with a soft whoosh and she cocked her head in evaluation.

Her skin was still pale but it was obvious that she had been in the elements. Her previously pixie cut onyx hair had returned to its original clavicle length soft waves. When she was on duty, she kept it up in a messy bun via a scavenged Jem'Hadar combat blade. It had been taken from one of the soldiers who had attacked the Infirmary at AR-569, the sister post to AR-558. She had dispatched 7 of the 12, leaving the rest to Dr. Nash and the blade had been an impulse grab before they departed. A trophy, her training informed her. It was like when Earth's World II fighter pilots became Aces or when the Hirogen in the Delta Quadrant kept the carcasses of their Prey. It was tangible proof of survival and a way to keep score against the enemy, a way to remember…

Her lightly calloused fingertips went to her toned abdomen and the now very faint Scar from Dax. That Scar had been hoist upon her as a duty and she had done everything she could to make it fade. A reddish pink sunburst ropy scar that extended from her left hip to just above her knee was anything but faint but Ezri didn't want to soften or fade it. It was raised and more than a little ugly, especially once her spots began to manifest on the tissue, but she wanted to keep it as natural as possible. She had earned that Scar. She had decided to have that Scar. It was _**hers.**_

She had been a part of an evacuation team when she collected the wound, aiding diplomats and refugees away from the advancing Dominion troops. She had been on the glancing blow of a disrupter shot. After the rest of the group was free, she had collapsed the tunnel behind her before limping to the transporter coordinates. She had been given a commendation in her record after that mission, along with the Latinum Star and the Starfleet Cross for valor above and beyond the call of duty. She had also been promoted from Lieutenant Junior Grade to Lt. Commander but the new pips didn't mean much to her. She had no interest in climbing up the ladder at the moment. What she wanted to do was live through the War and to continue her personal mission to help others be well…and to be more than the "placeholder" Dax.

She was more than the sum of her parts.

**She was more than the sum of her parts.**

She had something to prove and she was going to prove it tenfold or die trying.

All of her life, Ezri had felt like she had something to prove. Being Yanas Tigan's only little girl had been a test of mental strength. Actually, being her child in general was a test of mental strength, one that unfortunately, both of her brothers had failed miserably. Janel had written her about the debacle. There had been a woman Morica Bilby extorting the Mine for money and while Yanas and he had been willing to bend over backwards to keep her happy, her younger brother Norvo had decided to take matters into his own hands. He had murdered the woman and had confessed, both out of guilt and out of twisted pride. For once, he was not seen as "the idiot brother" or "the weakling with his head in the clouds". No. He had done what the perfect matriarch Yanas and the perfect older brother Janel had been unable to do. He had solved their biggest problem, a problem that wouldn't have arisen to begin with if Janel hadn't secretly turned to the Orion Syndicate for financial aid. Pergium prices had fallen in the wake of a large Ferengi discovery on Timor II and the Tigan Mines had hit dire financial straits. Janel had done what he had felt was necessary to keep the business afloat and their mother happy…

Norvo was currently serving a 30 year sentence on New Sydney and was on constant suicide watch. Janel had left the Mines and worked on cargo supply lines near the Beta Quadrant border.

She hadn't spoken to her mother since she left Trill after being Joined and quite frankly, Ezri wasn't looking for her. She had much bigger concerns, now.

While her body was now physically adapted to being Joined, her mind was still in chaos at times. Dax had been inside 8 strong willed, distinct people and they all felt like they had a say in her actions. They all had opinions about what she should be doing and who she should be. Ezri was much too young (25) and much too sheltered (daughter and heiress to a Mining fortune) to be of much use without guidance. She needed to listen to them. She needed to…**no. **The struggle was ongoing but she had taken back most of her mental space. _**She**_ was the Dax host, now. Whether she or they or anyone else liked it or not (and she certainly didn't like it, even almost a year later), _**she**_ was the Dax host now and she would do whatever the hell she wanted to do. She would do whoever the hell she wanted to do and she would be whoever the hell she wanted to be. Anyone with a problem would just have to learn to cope with it or leave her alone! She had survived her childhood with her identity and will intact. She'd be damned if it was stolen from her by a glorified leech with an over-inflated ego.

With a resolute nod, she walked away from the mirror and began to get dressed.

_**/**_

Ezri Dax was returning to DS9 and would be staying on as a Counselor and if need be, a security officer. She had served with distinction in the field and was now a Lt. Commander. She had published several excellent articles about the mental state of officers in the field and the various coping mechanisms, both positive and negative. Rumor had it that she was being courted by Starfleet Academy to teach there after the War ended (provided that they won the damned War, of course) and that she had her choice of her next assignment until then.

She had immediately picked DS9.

Captain Sisko had accepted her before Admiral Ross could even finish pitching the idea.

She was coming home.

She had chosen to come home…

Dr. Julian Bashir sat in the Replimat, nursing a deep mug of Tarkalean tea. He had just gotten off a 52 hour shift and would be spending the rest of the day in his quarters reading and eventually sleeping. Unbeknownst to the rest of the Senior Staff (except for perhaps Odo), Julian had kept in contact with Ezri after she went to the Front. Mainly, it was by letters (and checking the List every Friday…) but there had been a couple of late night transmissions. She would be in the postage stamp quarters typical of troop transports or in a medical area. Sometimes she'd be in full uniform. Other times, she'd be in a black camisole with her trousers and boots on. Unless someone was assigned to a relatively safe place like DS9 or on one of the Core planets like Vulcan or Earth, no one slept out of full uniform in case they had to fight or evacuate quickly. She would talk to him about her patients (as much as confidentiality would allow) and she'd ask after everyone, even Worf.

He had kept her apprised of what was going on the station, too. The baseball game against Captain Solok had her both in stitches and indignant on her long time friend's behalf. Curzon Dax had witnessed the wrestling match and the ongoing aftermath of the Vulcan's smug gloating firsthand so she understood why Captain Sisko had gone off the rails about it. They had thoroughly lost the game but due to Rom's bunt and the Niners' overall good humor about the situation, they had helped the Captain get one over on the bastard.

Then, he had told her about their Vic's Lounge Heist. Felix had inserted a 'jack-in-the-box' subroutine into the program to have Vic Fontaine's place be taken over by the Mafia. The Senior staff (sans Worf), Kasidy Yates, and Leeta had joined forces to get rid of the intruders in a convoluted, Rube Goldberg machine like plan. There had been many missteps (Miles O'Brien having to be strip searched being the worst…well, that and the safe lock being much more complex than anticipated) but in the end, it had worked out well. Vic was back where he belonged and the Program was safe.

Even with the Dominion War swirling around them and drawing them in, good things had still happened, good things that Julian wished that Ezri could've been a part of.

But, there had been bad things, too.

A string of murders had happened abroad the station. One of the victims had been Lt. Hector Ilario, a young and highly thought of helmsman on the Defiant. Greta Vanderweg and Zim Brott had also been taken. The weapon used had been a TR-116 rifle and each murder had been caused a long distance projectile fired into the victim's hearts. Odo had profiled the killer to be cold, calculated, and very traumatized, provoked by the sight of positive emotions.

The murderer had been Lt. Chu'lak. He had been a science officer on the USS Grissom for 10 years before it was destroyed by the Dominion at Ricktor Prime. He had been one of six survivors out of a crew of 1,250. Nearly everyone he had known, respected, maybe even loved for a decade had been on that ship and their lives had been stolen by the Dominion.

It had been too much for the already unstable man, even with his Vulcan emotional control.

When he had been stopped, the only reason that could be given was that "logic demanded it".

The last Julian had heard, the man had been sent to the healers at Gol before being transferred to a high security mental institution in Australia.

He didn't even want to dwell on the debacle with Sarina Douglas. She had been brought to the station for treatment and he had nearly driven her back into her mute, near catatonic state because he had overwhelmed her with his emotions, his alleged "love". God, he had been so bloody stupid! And so very lonely but mostly bloody fucking stupid, which Ezri had no qualms about telling him when he sheepishly informed her of what happened over a 0249 Sunday com. Her jaw had dropped, she had sputtered, and with a venomous "Julian Subatoi Bashir, what in the living hell were you _**thinking**_?!" that rivaled his mother's (and Miles'), she had been off.

It had been a long time since he had been called to the carpet but he didn't mind it. A good friend, a true friend was one who would rip you a new asshole when you needed it before helping to put you back together. His attachment to Sarina had been unhealthy, unethical, and had the young woman just gone along with it to make him happy, cruel. It had been a wakeup call that Julian appreciated and he wished Sarina all the best in her new life. Really, he did…

After the dust settled, the Defiant had been assigned to run supplies and troops to the Front, leading to them being at the last siege of AR-558. Nog had been critically injured on reconnaissance, resulting in a field amputation of his leg. When he returned from physical rehabilitation, the cowed and frightened young man had found solace in the holographic world of Vic Fontaine, to the point of Vic deactivating the program himself. Ezri had advised him on how to look after the young man from that point forward and Nog was much better now. Vic's was now running 26/7/365 and not only was Nog back among the living, their holographic friend could now have a life of his own...

A life of his own…Julian wondered what sort of life he could have. It wasn't too late for him. He was only 34 and barring unforeseen occurrences (like a Jem'Hadar squadron reducing him to subatomic particles), Bashirs easily made it past 100. His great-grandmother Amira had passed away at the age of 128. He had his work. He had hobbies. He had his friends but otherwise, his life really didn't have a lot of depth to it. Part of it was the ingrained sense of having to hold back so no one would ask too many questions. After finding out he had been Enhanced and realizing what dire consequences that could befall him and his parents if found out, he had become an accomplished actor. He had played naive, even stupid when it came to social situations and never really let on just how deep and fast his mind worked until after the Truth came out. The Truth had come out almost 3 years before but it took more than 3 years to undo over 20 years of conditioning.

Another part of it was his complete inability to find the correct partner needed for a more substantial life, meaning a committed relationship with the possibility of children. Marriage wasn't mandatory to him. All it was a piece of legal documentation. What Julian cared about were the sentiments attached to marriage: trust, acceptance, love. He hadn't found the right partner, yet. It was always bad taste, good taste but bad timing, or both. Palis, Melora, the ill fated infatuation with Nerys, Leeta, Sarina…_**Jadzia**_…

What truly frightened him about his growing attachment to Ezri Dax was the relevant worry of whether he was subconsciously substituting Ezri for Jadzia Dax, seeing her as a consolation prize, "the next best thing". The very idea was repugnant to him, something that he'd _**never **_actively do (unlike Quark and perhaps Worf) but still, it was something to contemplate…

_**/**_

"Lt. Commander Ezri Dax reporting for duty, sir."

"At ease, Old Man."

Grinning, Ezri let her ramrod straight posture relax and sat down on the other side of Benjamin Sisko's desk. Unlike the last times she had been in the room, she was feeling utterly serene. She wasn't wrestling with inadequacy or the overwhelming drive to run far, far away from her problems. No, she was just there. She was there to report for her new job and to see her old friend again. Well, Dax's old friend. Hopefully, he would become a friend to Ezri, too…

"You look good, Benjamin. Tired but that's to be expected. How are Jake and Kasidy?"

"They're doing well. Jake's still writing articles for the News Service and he's on his 3rd final draft for his novel. Every time he says he's done, it just keeps growing…"

"It's going to be a smash when it's done. Kasidy?"

"She's taken a supervising position with the Cargo Union. She's their liaison officer, now."

"Oh, she must love that."

"She does, although the paperwork is something she could do without."

"Her and every other person in a position of responsibility…while we're on the subject of responsibility, what's my first assignment?"

"After you settle in, I need you to follow up with Garak and prepare the psychological evaluations of the Senior staff and the Defiant's crew."

"Is it that time of year already?"

"Time flies when you're dodging death, Old Man."

"True. Would you call me a coward if I did them mainly through PADD questionnaires and observation?"

"No, I'd call you sensible."

Snorting ruefully, she looked out at Ops and saw the senior staff "causally" milling about the conference area. Kira Nerys, Miles O'Brien, and Worf were usually stationed there but Nog? Not so much, not to mention Garak and…

Julian's face lit up in a smile at something Miles said and Ezri felt her own lips curve upward in response. They were waiting for her to come out. She knew that Julian would be happy to see her but she wasn't sure about the rest of them. Before she had left, there had been the beginnings of acceptance (albeit grudgingly on her ex-husband's part) but now, things were different. She was different. Only Julian had an idea of who she was now and while she was uncertain about many things still, Ezri knew that she was pretty much the polar opposite of the Dax they knew and loved as a crew member, friend, sister, wife…

Staying on DS9 could and would lead to trouble.

Leaving would be the absolute wrong thing to do, not to mention that it would make her look very unprofessional and flaky amongst the Powers that Be.

It was a conundrum but it was a conundrum of her own making and she'd find a way to make it work out in the end.

It was the acceptable course of action.

Any choices that she made, even the problematic ones were acceptable courses of action because _**she **_was the one choosing. Not Lela, Tobin, Emony, Audrid, Torias, Joran, Curzon, or even the all sainted Jadzia…no, she was choosing again. She had control again. Ezri.

Deciding to just rip the band-aid off, Ezri stepped out onto the landing and immediately gazes went to her as she descended to meet them. Claiming a place next to Julian, she pulled out her blade and put her hair up, just as she did before every shift. After inclining her head in greeting, she looked up at Julian with a brilliant smile.

"Hi."


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: It has been horribly long since I touched this fic and I am so sorry. Like, wow. I didn't mean to do that to you guys. As you've probably seen, I got absorbed into other fandoms and this story just fell by the wayside. However, my youngest siblings have discovered **_**DS9**_** on Netflix and have a tendency to binge watch whole seasons at a time so it was the kick in the ass I needed to get back to this one, especially since my feelings on Ezri Dax still stand. She got a bad hand and she deserves better. I want better for her.**

**Disclaimer: "Honestly, it's not mine!"**

**8 Days Later…**

"You and I being in here together isn't going to help with the Rumor Mill at all."

"Julian, I used to save my Com time and I borrowed some from the others…"

"Is that what you're going to call it? Borrowing?"

"…to keep talking with you while I was gone for two reasons. First, you are still my primary physician. You're the only doctor I trust to treat me fairly since the rest see me as an Incubator or a Test Case. Secondly and most importantly, we're friends. Dax may have known you first and longer but I know you now. We're friends and station gossip won't stop me from spending time with you. Are you gonna let it stop you from spending time with me?"

"No, I won't."

"Good. Stop worrying about it and let's go downstairs. What will be will be."

"Aye, Ma'am."

"Don't start with that. I'm a Counselor, not a Ma'am."

"The way that you just talked to me and the 3 pips on your collar say otherwise."

"Hush."

"Aye, Ma'am..."

"Don't make me hurt you, Doctor. Small can be mighty. Computer, End Program."

Quark's was bustling with the usual dinner crowd and an influx of officers from the Front on Shore Leave or in between assignments. Ezri exchanged silent greetings with some of them, a nod here and a raised drink there. She had gained a reputation for not just her unorthodox counseling techniques but for her combat prowess. She was known as Freud, Pixie, and most shockingly, Spotted One. Like many other things, the last moniker sounded much more poetic and stronger in Klingon but she had grown fond of it just as the previous Daxes embraced Benjamin Sisko's Old Man.

One person, an engineer turned attack pilot named Terrence Reading, had put it succinctly: **you want her shrinking your brain and watching your back out there. She'll get you through. **Last she heard of him, he had been medically discharged and was at the Academy teaching the next generation of pilots. Whether they would be flying into battle was up in the air but there was a distinct possibility that they would, which saddened her greatly.

Being over 350 years old now made Ezri all too aware about the horrors of War, the sacrifice and pain. She had experienced it, felt it herself and it was bone tiring. Once The Dominion War ended, there would be another one. There was always another War to fight but hopefully, the Allies, the soldiers and civilians within the Alliance would be able to rest peacefully before the next Big Bad dropped out of Warp. It would likely hail from the Delta Quadrant. The USS **Voyager**'s reports of Kazon, Hirogen, plus the ever present threat of the Borg…well, there had to be bad to go with the good. There had to be balance.

"Do you want to stay here for a while?"

"Sure. I'll get us drinks. Romulan Ale?"

"Yes, please."

Since she had finished a 52 hour shift before meeting up with Julian (and she was in a "safe" assignment), Ezri was in civvies. It was a way to compartmentalize and it was also a way to distinguish herself from the previous Dax that had been on DS9. Unless she was in a holosuite, on leave, or it was a very special occasion, Jadzia lived in her uniform. Currently, Ezri was in a midsleeved plum v-neck sweater, charcoal trousers, and her uniform boots. Her phaser was holstered on her hip and being off duty, the knife she used to hold up her hair was next to it. Her hair was yet another point of comparison. Everyone remembered Jadzia's early elaborate updos and her chestnut low ponytail, held in place by her clip.

Ezri wanted her hair out of the way so she pinned it up. It was a practical decision, very sensible but still, Jadzia had done it and…was she being paranoid again? Not everyone immediately held up a measuring stick and found her lacking, right? She had more than proven her individual value, hadn't she? She was one of the youngest people to receive the Starfleet Cross. Her psychological cases were being used as models for treatment. She was the first Dax to stay on the Frontlines of a War in centuries. She had proven her merit as a soldier, as a Counselor tenfold. She was _**Ezri**_ Dax, not another Dax, a dead yet lingering Dax. She was Ezri Dax and she mattered.

Right?

Right!

Ezri just had to remember that she mattered and everything would fall into place.

She'd keep working on it...there was no other option.

"Your usual?"

"And Julian's too. The good stuff. Put it on my tab."

"Coming right up…so, you and the Good Doctor are getting cozy already, huh? I can't blame him. It's a shame but hey, better Julian than that Klingon maniac. At least he knows how to crack a smile every once in a while…"

"Worf isn't a maniac and Julian and I are just friends. Although, I _**do**_ have a downright salacious idea for you to add to the rumor mill about us since people want to talk."

"Go on…"

"How does a candlelit past life exploration session involving a pot of honey, red silk scarves, and some Orion Ostrich Feathers in very interesting places sound?"

"Very nice, Lt. Commander. That would make a wonderful holosuite program. If you live through the War, you could end up being the programmer and author of the next **Vulcan Love Slave**."

"I could. I have a lovely imagination and so does Dax. Curzon alone…_**wow**_…"

"Wow…that being said, are you sure that you don't want to give a kind and gentle, semi respectable Ferengi businessman a try one of these days?"

"Maybe next lifetime, Quark. Daxes have a tendency to end up here and who knows? Maybe the next one will like Ferengi. I'll be sure to put in a good word for you."

"I'll hold you to that…unless the next Dax is a man, then forget it!"

Giggling, Ezri took a sip of her Til'amin froth and spotted Julian speaking with Miles O'Brien. That made her smile. Jadzia remembered their friendship, their brotherhood fondly and Miles had been one of the first on DS9 to welcome Ezri. He had gone to bat for her against Worf before she left for the Front and didn't let anyone use Jadzia as an excuse to exclude her. And he made Julian happy. Anything and anybody that made Julian feel happy, feel accepted was all right in her book. Her head tilted at the expression on Miles' face and she nodded to herself as both men's gazes went towards her and away quickly, guiltily.

They were discussing her.

There was no need for guilt.

She was actually surprised that such a conversation hadn't happened sooner.

Ezri had explained in Ops that they had kept in touch after she left but not much else. Not that anyone was seriously asking until now, despite the Rumor Mill spinning in time with the station itself. She wasn't sure how exactly to explain her relationship with Julian and she didn't owe anyone an explanation, anyway. Even if she and Julian were being intimate, were being _**inappropriate**_, it was nobody's business except theirs unless it interfered with their duties.

And Miles wasn't asking out of salacious curiosity like Quark or grief tempered jealousy like Worf. He just wanted to make sure that his brother wouldn't rack up more heartbreak and that he wouldn't hurt her trying to chase a ghost, trying to use her to get to Jadzia's memory. The implication made her so angry on his behalf. Julian did love Jadzia dearly. That was true but he would never be so callous, so selfish as to use her as a substitute, not even subconsciously. Ezri had faith in that idea, in him and it chafed that others didn't.

It also chafed her that people thought that she wouldn't notice or that she would put up with it, even for a second.

Absolutely not.

Ezri Tigan was nobody's doormat, nobody's second choice and The Leech wouldn't steal that from her, too. It could take over her body, take over and scramble most of her mind but it would never take away her pride, never, ever her pride…

_**/**_

"This isn't…I know who she is. I care for Ezri as she is, not for Dax. We're friends."

"_**Just**_ friends?"

"Miles, she's been on DS9 for a total of 11 days. We stayed in touch while she was gone but there hasn't…we haven't been intimate. We're just friends."

"Do you want to be more?"

Yes, but admitting that out loud, even to his brother was not going to happen, not yet. Instead of answering Miles, Julian finished off his Romulan Ale and looked towards the stairs she had climbed to exit. She knew what they were talking about when she took her leave and the faith in her eyes, her unbothered body language staggered him, humbled him greatly.

Ezri believed in him.

She believed that he would never do what the Rumor Mill was implying, what Quark had outright said, what Worf had angrily accused him of. She believed that he would never use her as a substitute, as a consolation prize to being with Jadzia Dax. She believed that he was reaching out to her for the sake of her, of Ezri, and they had their own friendship, their own connection outside of Dax.

Her belief and faith in him were not misplaced.

"How's she holding up?"

"Dax has acclimated to her body and she's taken back most of her mental space. She's still quite angry about the situation. She never wanted to be Joined but she's making the best of it."

"Is she happy here?"

"She seems to be. It's far less dangerous than where she was and DS9 is familiar. It helps."

Julian couldn't imagine what it was really like to be Joined, especially with no training. All of the memories, all of the pressure…he admired Ezri greatly. She made the ultimate sacrifice and she was still stable, still herself overall. During one of their late night Coms, after her younger brother had been convicted of murder, she explained why she could do it. Julian had a strained relationship with his parents, the resentment towards Richard and Amsha basically upgrading to a better son potent but Yanas Tigan? The woman was a textbook narcissist, an emotional manipulator and abuser of the worst kind.

The traits made her a formidable businesswoman but a subpar mother and Ezri's father was long gone, having abandoned his family without ever looking back. She didn't tell him the man's name, just said that she looked like him and that she completely understood why he left Yanas. If she were him, she would've done it, too. She just wished that he hadn't left her and her brothers, too. Growing up with her, being the only daughter and middle child had made Ezri a prime target for criticism disguised as motherly concern. While older brother Janel had complied fully and younger brother Norvo withdrew into art, Ezri had fought back. She had fought with words and action. She had accomplished her dream of enlisting in Starfleet, in being more than what people expected of her, only to have everything thrown off course by Dax.

Ezri compared her mind to a constant battlefield inside of her. It was chaos filled with unsorted memories and the sentience granted to them via Dax. Every Host had a strong personality. Daxes were typically known as renegades or eccentric. Her Joining had been like being tossed overboard into a stormy sea with only a life preserver, a half deflated one. Quietly, she had informed him of the full truth of the matter and it only added to Julian's admiration of her. She could have said no, could've gambled on Finok recovering enough to take Dax but she didn't. Her Grace, her compassion, her…everything…she was amazing.

Ezri Dax was amazing.

Julian knew that he would always have love for Jadzia Dax but his feelings for Ezri were completely different, just as powerful but in a different way. It was an affection rooted in friendship mainly, a mutual understanding of what it was like to feel awkward in one's skin, and he was honestly quite protective of her. Not to say that she couldn't take care of herself or those around her but he just wanted to be there in case she needed or wanted backup.

He wanted to be her Partner.

Badly.


	4. A Personal Note to All Readers

**To all those reading and wondering where I've been: **It's been a crazy few months. I've had some issues with my laptop files and as I've mentioned before, my little sister Sara was diagnosed with cancer last fall. My Sara Elizabeth, my Bunny had an inoperable brain tumor and after 16 months of fighting, of enduring hell, she passed away yesterday morning. It was…heartbreaking is the best word I've got to describe it but at the same time, my Bunny is now at peace. Her cancer (**DIPG, if you want to look it up…I wouldn't recommend it. It's brutal**) took away a lot of her joy, her fire, and her body turned against her towards the end.

She was _**surviving**_, not living and although I will miss the hell out of her, I am so glad that she's free and with my faith, I know that not only will I see her again, I know that when I do she will be happy, healthy, and most likely making me run like hell after her while she rides her bike like Tony Hawk's cousin. LOL!

"**Why are you making me run, woman? You know I'm in the wrong bra for this!"**

"**Quit complaining and keep up, Grumpy Bunny!"**

Anyway, I just wanted to let you guys know that I'm still around in fandom and I still intend to keep writing. I've frequently said that writing helps to anchor me and Sara would totally kick my ass if I gave up something that I genuinely adore to do.** All she wanted in her last days were to 1) not be alone in a hospital as she passed (which she wasn't, thank God. We were all there for her) and 2) for us all to live and be happy. So, that's what I'm gonna do.**

**One day at a time.**

**I miss my girl so much but it's gonna be okay. In the now immortal words of Kendrick Lamar: we gon' be all right.**

I'm working on another super long TWD fic right now but I'll be returning to the WIPs (yes, all of them) as soon as I get the files on my new laptop.

**Mad Love, Jam, and Power Drills (or Pythons and Sketti Rings to The Walking Dead folks) to all of you, ~*CMW2/Trumpetnista*~**


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